


The Clothes Make the Man

by esqueish (mogigraphia)



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-03
Updated: 2011-11-03
Packaged: 2017-10-25 16:04:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/272153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mogigraphia/pseuds/esqueish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry buys John a gift. Originally posted anonymously at the SherlockBBC_fic kink meme, 11/14/2010.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Clothes Make the Man

**Author's Note:**

> Another anonymous fic that I am now owning up to, which I've also given a little bit of cleaning up.

John is half an hour late when he finally meets Harry at the coffee shop she likes (John has been Sherlock's flatmate for a long enough time to notice how very much coffee she's been drinking, and how badly her hands are shaking, and kindly ignores it), and there is a box on the table which means trouble. 

"Missed your birthday!" She says cheerily as he sits, and he really knows he's in Trouble, capitalized. Harry's presents are notorious, from the subscription to Penthouse for his sixteenth birthday ("Come on, I know you're interested, and this month's centerfold is to die for, come and look at her legs...") to the anal beads for his twenty first birthday, which John might had laughed at had they not been surrounded by their parents, as well as their eldery aunts and uncles at the time of unwrapping. 

Therefore it is with great trepidation that he thanks his sister and pulls the box towards himself, unwrapping with the air of a man going to the noose. Stowing the lid under his chair, he pushes aside the department store tissue paper and is somewhat nonplussed when his fingers encounter leather. For one wild moment he's certain that his sister has bought him a catsuit, and really, while he thinks it may keep him warm, there's a line to be drawn somewhere.

"Your coat is getting a little threadbare, and I thought..." Harry suddenly looks a little nervous, and John pulls the leather jacket out of it's wrappings. Compared to her usual gifts, it's extremely mature and thoughtful, and, John suddenly thinks, expensive. 

Harry notices his worried expression and quickly reassures him with, "Well, now that I've cut out the nightly pint or so, I had a tidy bit saved, and I didn't want to spend it on myself..." 

It's not his usual style by any means, it's definitely a motorcycle jacket for one, with extra padding in the shoulders and elbows. On the right man it could be a very intimidating jacket, very 'Don't fuck with me, I'm probably carrying a pistol and I'm very adept at using it'. John's a little worried that on him, it'll look more like 'You probably shouldn't fuck with me, because I have a comb that looks like a switchblade that I could probably scratch your face with'. 

All the same, there's so much hopefully anxiety on Harry's face that he can't help but gracefully accept the gift, and try not to wear it unless he ended up going as a John Travolta from Grease to a fancy dress party. Of course, she insists on him wearing it out of the shop ("Let's see it on! There, see, you look like Indiana Jones, or Keanu Reeves or something!"), departing with his dependable, only slightly worn coat over his arm. It's a little colder in the whipping wind outside the shop, the collar doesn't cover as well as his old coat, and there's one strike against it, with John annoyedly looking for more as he shoves his hands into the smaller pockets. Another strike, he thinks as he finally reaches 221B Baker Street, cheeks a little red and snuffling from a slight runny nose. 

"New coat?" Sherlock calls before he even gets to the top of the stairs. John doesn't bother asking, he can tell the world's Only Consulting Detective is pleased with himself, which means he'll explain his deductions with flair. "You're sniffling, which means you're colder, not as covered up, the material of the coat makes a different noise as your arms-" John reaches the top of the stairs, coming into Sherlock's view, and Sherlock falls silent. 

"What? You weren't done with your 'brilliant' deductions," says John, making air quotes with his hands, though his tone is goodnatured enough. Sherlock is still silent, and John turns around after he hangs up his Good Old Coat, as he's renamed it on the walk home. 

Sherlock is looking over John rapidly, as if he's a body at a crime scene and those sharp bright eyes are taking in every pieces of evidence they can see. John feels a flush spreading up cheeks and the tops of his ears without really understanding why. 

"Well?" He says, mostly to cover up whatever odd feeling is pricking the back of his neck. Sherlock looks at him for a moment longer, and then blinks, shaking his head a little as if to clear it. A long, awkward second stretches out. 

"Lost my train of thought," Sherlock announces with annoyance, and stomps off into the kitchen. John stares after him for a moment, and then hangs up the new jacket as well and heads to his room, confident that he won't be wearing it again. 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Oh, goodness John, I'm so sorry," Sherlock says in the fake acting way he used on Mrs. Monkford, that tells John he's not sorry in the slightest. John holds up a decapitated sleeve from his poor, murdered Good Old Coat. "I was conducting an experient which involved throwing several stilettos at a target on the wall, and, well, the poor thing just got caught in the crossfire." John rolls his eyes, huffing, attempting to rein in the temper that is usless when it comes to his incorrigable flatmate. "You do have that other jacket, until this one can get mended..." John throws his hands up, he's late enough for his shift as it is. 

"Forget it!" He says, shoving his arms into leather sleeves. Sherlock allows a slow and dirty smile to spread across his face as soon as John's back is turned. 


End file.
